


Cover Up

by theseathemoonandthestars



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explosions, Graphic Depictions of Illness, M/M, Minor Mai/Ty Lee, Minor Mai/Zuko, Not Beta Read, POV First Person, POV Zuko (Avatar), Tattoos, based on an original work, minor alcoholism, tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28134327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theseathemoonandthestars/pseuds/theseathemoonandthestars
Summary: “You know," he says, tracing his fingers along my back, “You’ve never told me what your tattoo means. You even let the tattoo artist see your back before I could see it. I’d never seen you shirtless until then”--Zuko's first love ended in disaster, one he'd like to forget, but one fateful night at a club could give him the happy ending he deserves.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), zukka
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	Cover Up

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Cover Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967073) by [theseathemoonandthestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theseathemoonandthestars/pseuds/theseathemoonandthestars). 



> PLEASE READ
> 
> This is an Avatar version of an original story of mine, you can read it here
> 
> Because this was originally an original story, some characters may be OOC, but I did my best to fix it, and some lines might not make perfect sense. I just wanted more people to see it so I figured that by using a more well known fandom, there would be more views.
> 
> In the original, the MC is supposed to be gender-neutral so that male, female, gnc, and enby readers could all relate to the character as if they were in the MC's place. However, Zuko is definitively male in canon, which takes out part of the surprise.
> 
> I am also acutely aware that 1st person POV sucks in fanfics, all the more reason to read the original story!
> 
> Also I had to edit character names and pronouns so if I missed something please let me know.

**2020**

“You know,” he says, tracing his fingers along my back, “You’ve never told me what your tattoo means. You even let the tattoo artist see your back before I could see it. I’d never seen you shirtless until then”

I open my eyes. He’s laying on his side next to me, head propped up on his elbow, blankets draped loosely around his hips, the morning sun behind him making him look very much like my own personal Adonis.

“Mmm. It’s a cover-up.” I murmur into the pillow, closing my eyes once again. His fingers still, but the light pressure is still there.

“It’s a big cover-up. What is it covering?” he asks. “A scar or a tattoo?”

“Both.”

“Both?”

“It was a tattoo, then a scar, and now it’s a tattoo again. The second time hurt like hell, the area was so sensitive.”

"I didn’t realize you had this many scars.” he says. His fingers start to trace again, even softer than before. I relax under his touch.

“They don’t hurt anymore, if that’s what you’re wondering.” I say, smiling into my pillow. He laughs.

“I didn’t think they did. What happened?” At that, I open my eyes and look at him. His beautiful blue eyes are soft and loving, full of care and round with innocent curiosity. I laugh.

“You happened.” I say. His fingers still again.

“What?”

“Ah, you don’t remember. That’s okay.” I smile, snuggling into his arms.

“Why don’t I remember? I feel like I should remember?”

“That would be the brain injury from the club. You lost almost all your memories of the night we met, and the two weeks leading up to it, and your memories of the week after were always a little disjointed.”

“Will you tell me what happened? I don’t think I’ve heard your version of events.” “Hmmm. I guess I haven’t.” I say, rolling onto my back, pulling the blankets over my chest.

“Where should I start? The beginning?”

“That’s where most stories tend to start.”

“My beginning was a long time ago.”

“It has been more than two years since it happened.”

“Even longer. Before the club.”

“When?”

* * *

**2007**

“Mai, will you be my girlfriend?” I asked her on the way home from school. She stopped dead in her tracks.

“We’re ten years old, too young for a relationship.” she said simply.

“But we promised to get married when we’re older, so we can definitely start dating now.” I said. I looked at her in her beautiful black eyes, pleading silently. She sighed, and swatted me.

“Promise me you’ll be mine?” she said, twirling a strand of her long hair in between her fingertips. She looked down at the ground, like I was going to refuse her. Like I could possibly say no.

“I’ve been yours, Mai. I was when we were babies, I am now, and I will be forever.”

“But do you promise?”

"I promise, Mai. Then, now, and forever. I’m yours.”

“Why are you so romantic for a ten-year old? It's so gross.” gagged my best friend, Toph, from behind me. She was seven, so what did she know?

Shut up, Toph.” I said, blushing.

“I thought it was cute. And sweet.” said Mai, also blushing, and trying desperately to hide it. She grabbed my hand and pointedly walked away. I could feel my cheeks flushing darker. Toph gagged again.

“Disgusting.” she called out cheekily.

“You’re disgusting.” I replied cleverly.

“Your face is disgusting.”

“Shut up Toph.”

“No.”

* * *

**2015**

I stared up at the tattoo shop with absolute glee. I was finally eighteen and free to do what I wanted with my body. Especially since my father was behind bars and my uncle was kind enough to let me do what I wanted.

“You do know that getting someone’s name tattooed is the first sign of a failing relationship, right?” said Toph next to me.

“That’s why I’m not getting her name tattooed!” I laughed.

“You’re getting her face, that’s even worse.”

“I’ve wanted to do this since I was twelve years old, it’s not a mistake. I signed a waiver and everything! The artist agreed to it!”

“The artist has six names tattooed on his arms and they’re all crossed out, not even covered up.” Toph huffed, crossing her arms. “It’s either his exes or a hit list. Either way, I don’t think his opinion is valid.”

“Toph, bro, please be happy for me.” I begged.

“So what if you’ve been dating Mai since you were basically in diapers, getting a face tattooed is still seriously weird!”

“She doesn’t think so.”

“You told her about this? And she agreed?”

“Like you said, we’ve been basically dating since diapers, but it’s been official for eight years. Eight years is plenty of waiting time. Nothing can go wrong.” and with a final giddy smile, I stepped into the shop. Nothing could ruin this for me.

“Both of you are so goddamn weird.” I heard Toph mutter behind me. I chose to ignore her. What did she know about love?

Two hours later, I was gripping Toph's hand like my life depended on it, tears pricking my eyes.

“Jesus Christ, you have the pain tolerance of a toddler.” grunted Toph, switching her hands. I didn’t respond, trying to stay as still as possible, so talking was a bit tough. I grabbed her hand again with a vice like grip.

“Don’t worry, it’s almost done.” said Toph. I glared at her. She’d said that at least half an hour ago. She noticed my expression. “I’m serious this time! You just wanted an outline, right? Minimal shading? It’s almost over.” Toph looked over at the tattoo artist for confirmation, who grunted by way of reply.

I was on my stomach so I couldn’t see the guy's expression, so I just prayed it was a _Yeah, it’s almost over_ grunt and not an _Are you crazy? We still have two more hours on this_ grunt.

“See?” Toph said. I relaxed, or at least tried too.

“I’ll take your word for it.” I muttered through gritted teeth.

A few weeks later and I was admiring the fully healed tattoo in the mirror. Mai was snapping pictures of it, presumably to send to Ty Lee.

“It came out really good.” she said, showing me a rare smile. My heart melted. She was just too damn cute. “Everyone will know you’re mine.” she said, tackling me in a hug.

“Then, now and forever.” I said, smiling into her shoulder. Her long black hair tickled my nose. She smelled like strawberries and grass and sun and love and-

“I love you.” she said.

“I love you too.”

* * *

**2017**

“Don’t say it. I know what you’re thinking, don’t even think about saying it, Toph.” I said. My eyes were so red and swollen, I could barely see out of them, but I saw her troubled expression anyway.

Toph had just heaved onto her shoulders after finding me in front of a bar, where I had gotten thrown out after someone I knew recognized me and snitched on me for not being twenty-one.

Damn snitch. My birthday was in a week. I was basically already of age.

“Hey, it’s okay. Tell me about it?” she said, readjusting her grip on my thighs.

“She broke up with me, Toph. Mai, Mai, she- she broke up with me.” I wailed. “We always said we’d love each other forever, I got her tattooed on my back, and she just broke up with me, just like that! Like twenty years meant nothing to her!”

“Why did she break up with you?” Toph asked kindly, I sobbed harder. I could barely form the words, much less choke them out.

“She fell in love with someone else.” I finally yelled. “She said she’d been seeing them for months before she decided to end it with me. Months! She said I’d become clingy and boring and she needed someone different than me in her life. Like tattooing her face wasn’t adventurous enough?”

I gripped her shoulders tighter. “She was my everything, Toph. Then, now, and supposedly forever! Forever meant nothing to her, now it’ll mean nothing to me!”

“It’ll be okay. You’ll get through this. You’re a strong person.” Toph murmured to me.

I sobbed into her back.

* * *

**2018**

The past year had been a bit of a blur. Everything back home had reminded me of Mai, we had the same major in the same college and the same friend group and the same favorite restaurants, and I just kept seeing her with her new _girlfriend_. It was Ty Lee and the bretrayal of it all hurt. It really did.

I was sick of pitiful stares and eating alone and it just finally reached the point where I just broke.

I dropped out of college, moved across the country, and had spent the last year trying to forget her.

Unsuccessfully, I may add.

I had thrown myself into a monotonous desk job during the day, and found someone new most nights. As long as they looked nothing like her, it was fine. No one with black eyes, no black hair, no flawless skin, no strawberries, no perfection.

It didn’t have to be women either.

In fact, it was better if it wasn’t another woman. It didn't matter. It never lasted anyway. Nothing ever did.

If I got past the point of people being scared of my face, or asking too many questions about it, then it would go to the bedroom, where it always, always ended either the moment when or soon after they saw my back.

There were always too many questions about it.

“Who is she?”

“Your sister?”

“Your mother?”

“Your girlfriend? Your _wife_?”

“A loved one who’s passed away?”

“Why a face?”

“Why your back?”

“When did you get it?”

No matter how often I tried to forget about it, someone always had to remind me. I didn’t have enough to get it removed. I didn’t even have enough to cover it up. No, I spent all my money on trying to forget the first twenty years of my life. I had barely any memories that didn’t involve her.

I even stopped taking my shirt off to combat questions, but then there were questions about that. There were less of them, but it was annoying nonetheless.

Toph texted me every once in a while to check up on me, and make sure I was doing alright. I didn’t deserve a friend like her. Not even my Uncle called that often. To be fair, I had blown up at him a bit before I left, telling him not to contact me, but still.

At five o’clock on the dot that Friday, I left my office building. At precisely 5:15, I arrived home. By 6:15, I had showered, eaten, and changed. By 6:30, I was at my usual club.

“Back again?” said the bartender, Jee. “This can’t possibly be good for your liver, kid. You’ve been in every day this week.”

“Don’t judge me, Jee. I need this.” I said. “This is a rough time of year for me.” About eleven months and three weeks ago, the love of my life had ripped out my heart and shattered it. The exact date was tomorrow. I just needed to think about nothing for the next two days.

“I’m not serving alcohol to you today, kid. Go home, read a book or something.”

“Tell it to someone who cares, Jee,” I snarled, shoving the barstool. I stomped out of the club. I needed a new one for tonight. Somewhere they didn’t know me.

My search took me three Ubers, a taxi, and two towns over, where I finally found a club that had a decently short line, but not too short like it was a bad club. I took a chance and lined up. The bouncer eyed me. I sighed. He was either confused about my age or staring at the scar.

“I’m almost twenty-two.” I said, showing him my ID. He eyed my face, and my ID, and my face again. With a grunt, he let me into the club. The host took my bag, and gave me a number that I just shoved into my pocket. The music was decently loud, and the alcohol was decently good.

I whirled around, partner to partner, strobes blurring faces and music muting voices. I wasn’t drunk enough for this. I wasn’t even all that drunk at all. Tipsy at the most.

My tolerance had boosted immensely in the past year, so now I barely had enough cash to get properly drunk anymore most nights.

I took a break from the dancing, and sat by the entrance, waiting for someone halfway interesting to catch my eye. There was a tanned guy to my left, practically passed out. The guy must’ve had shitty friends, leaving him alone in a club like that.

If I had friends, I wouldn’t club alone nor would I leave my friends alone. You never knew what kind of creepers lurked around.

There were a myriad of types of people going in the club, but the most interesting person I saw come through the door was an older guy man, maybe in his late thirties, with a weird tattoo on his forehead. The club didn’t seem like his type of place, the vibe didn’t seem to match him at all.

He looked me dead in the eyes, the expression he was wearing making me feel slightly uncomfortable, like he was judging every decision I had ever made.

I would’ve looked away but his near menacing look was directed to other parts of the club, and away from me. The other oddity was the coat. It looked much too hot for the summer night. The host at the door offered to take his coat. The older guy ignored the host, pulling something out of his pockets. They seemed a bit too large in his hands to be keys or a phone.

The guy screamed something I couldn’t hear, but it drew everyone’s attention. Even the music stopped. The guy on my left jolted up, and looked around, groggy. There was a moment of dead silence, where everyone was just too shocked to do anything about the interruption.

“Die, infidels and sinners!” the man yelled, breaking the silence. He threw the oddly-shaped objects onto the dance floor. I realized what they were, as did most of the club. In the same split second I realized that the guy on my left wouldn’t be able to react in time.

“Find cover!” someone yelled. I lunged to my left, hitting the guy hard, and knocking us behind the host’s station. His head hit the ground with a sickening thud. I curled my body around him, then the world turned orange, then yellow, then black.

The smell of antiseptic burned my nose, combining with the smell of freshly washed linens. I blinked my eyes open, ignoring the headache the sudden increase of light gave me. Was I in a hospital? It certainly looked and smelled like it.

A small beeping sound caught my attention, so I craned my head to see an EKG machine beeping to my heartbeat, a heartbeat that I could feel in my ridiculous hangover headache.

Definitely a hospital.

An older nurse bustled in a few moments later, holding a tray of bandages and a bag of something that was presumably going into my IV. Her name tag read Yagoda.

“Oh! You’re awake! How are you feeling, dear?” she asked, setting the tray down.

“Like I have a hangover.” I groaned. I paused, suddenly remembering the events of the previous night. “Did I get caught in an explosion?”

“Yes dear. I’m going to need you to answer a few questions, just so we can fill in some missing information, we couldn’t find your ID card or wallet, the storeroom was destroyed.”

“Alright, ask away.”

“Name?”

“Zuko Sozin.”

“Date of birth?”

“July eighteenth, nineteen ninety-seven.”

“Blood type?” “O negative.”

“Place of birth?”

“Los Angeles, California.”

“Relatives I can contact?”

“Uh, my friend Toph Beifong.”

“Thank you, Zuko. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Why do you need my blood type?”

“You have many sutures, and are at risk for losing a lot of blood if they tear, We need to have blood for you on hand. We decided to ask instead of drawing your blood without permission, as we realized you wouldn’t need transfusions until after waking up. The shrapnel prevented much of your blood loss.”

“Ah. I see. Is there a reason I’m on my stomach?” “Yes dear. You got quite a bit of shrapnel in your back protecting your boyfriend, and your burns are almost entirely on your back. You’re very lucky. It mostly hit rib bone and didn’t pierce your lungs, nor did it break any vertebrae. We put you on your stomach to avoid irritating any of the stitches.”

“My back?” I said, trying to reach around. It hurt too much, so I set it down. My brain finally processed the other piece of information. “My boyfriend?”

“Yes, the young man here. He’s currently unconscious, but he should be alright.” she said, gesturing to a privacy screen. I assumed she meant who was behind it.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh!” she said, shocked. “We just assumed because of what you did-”

“It’s all right, easy assumption to make.” I said. “What was that about my back?”

“Oh, shrapnel from the floor ended up piercing you back, and there are some minor burns. I’m terribly sorry, but your tattoo was lost.”

It took me a second to take in that information.

“It's gone?” I asked. “It’s really gone?” I started sobbing. Yagoda crouched down and patted my hair.

“I’m sorry dear. I know it must’ve been very important to you.”

“You misunderstand.” I said, laughing.

“I’ve been wanting to remove it for an entire year. I’m so happy I’m crying.” Yagoda jolted a bit. I understood why. Laughing was not the typical reaction to finding out you’d lost tattoos.

“Can I see it?” I asked. The nurse, still clearly confused, nodded slowly. She expertly removed the bandages, which had not been wrapped around my stomach. She handed me a small mirror.

“Be warned, they are fresh wounds, and may look gruesome.” she said. She held up a bigger mirror over my pack. I peered into the mirror in my hand.

There were angry red burns scattered everywhere with one large one on my lower left side, and there were stitches zig-zagging and criss-crossing my back, focused mostly around my right side, and my right shoulder blade, where the tattoo had been. There were still remnants of lines of ink underneath, but it was completely unrecognizable. I started crying again.

“Please thank the doctors for me.” I sobbed. Yagoda set down the mirror.

“I will, dear.” she reapplied salves and fresh bandages, and replaced whatever had been in my IV. She opened the privacy screen as she moved on to the guy next to me.

“What’s up with him?” I asked.

“It seems he hit his head pretty hard, and is also suffering from alcohol poisoning. He’ll wake up soon, within a couple of hours, and that’s when we’ll be able to assess the damage done to his brain. He escaped other injuries thanks to you.”

“I’m glad I could help someone.” I said. Maria continued with her rounds, and closed the privacy screen on the way out.

The doctors later told me that I’d need to stay in the hospital for two weeks until my stitches could be removed, as it was too dangerous for me to move around much with them still in.

I called my boss and told her why I couldn’t come to work for at least two weeks, and she sobbed, told me not to worry about a thing, and sent flowers over using some kind of instant delivery service.

I’d never say it to her face, as I didn’t particularly feel like getting fired, but they were the ugliest flower arrangement she could’ve picked.

It was yellow and red and purple and green and wrapped in a bright orange ribbon.

There weren’t even any sunflowers either, despite them being the prettiest flowers in existence.

I politely asked Yagoda to toss them, and she politely agreed.

A few hours later, Toph burst into my hospital room, looking half-dressed and haggard. I flinched, then winced as my stitches were pulled taught against my skin.

“Sparky! You’re alive!”

“No shit, Sherlock.” I groaned.

“Why in God’s name am I your emergency contact, I live a five-hour plane ride away. They told me you got caught up in some domestic terrorist attack. What happened? I haven’t looked at the news yet. Jesus are you okay?”

“Slow down, man. One question at a time. Yes I got caught up in an explosion, the docs said something about how the guy was an evangelical catholic, and hated anything that could ‘cause sin or depravity’, so he exploded the club closest to his house. Like violent Footloose or something.”

“Okay, why am I your contact?”

“Because you’re like, my only friend.”

“Moving on from how shitty your social life is, What about Uncle?”

“Why would I want to tell him about an emergency situation? I haven’t spoken to him in like, three months. My first contact isn’t going to be saying how I almost died.”

“Are you okay? Why are you on your stomach?”

“I got shrapnel to the back, I actually even-” I choked on the words.

“Zuko? Zuko are you okay?” Toph asked worriedly, crouching by my bed.

“Toph, the tattoo is gone, it’s finally gone.” I said, tears dripping down my face again.

“Did the shrapnel-” Toph started to ask, but she stopped and shook her head, “It’s good that it’s gone, she can finally stop messing with your head,” Toph said kindly. I smiled at her in response.

“I feel lighter, somehow.” I said. Our conversation was interrupted by a groan from the next bed over.

“Who’s that guy?”

“Uh, I think I protected him at the club? I remember he’d been passed out and I knew he wouldn’t be able to move in time, so I think I covered him? They thought he was my boyfriend so that’s why we’re in the same room, I think. He has a brain injury? You should get the nurse.”

“Will do. Be back soon.” said Toph, swishing through the doorway. A different nurse and a doctor bustled back in the room, Toph following behind.

“Zuko, I’m going to turn off the lights in case he’s sensitive.” said the nurse.

“That’s fine.” I said. The room darkened, but I had the window bed, so there was still a decent amount of sunlight.

“Where am I?” asked a croaky voice.

“The hospital, dear. Please have an ice chip, you must be thirsty.” said the nurse. There was a pause. I assumed he was eating the chip.

“Thank you.” the voice said, much less croaky. “Will you please tell me why I’m in the hospital? And why do I have a raging headache?”

“You were at a club last night, young man.” said the doctor. “There was an explosion, you hit your head pretty hard. I’m Dr. Arnook, a brain trauma specialist.”

“I wasn’t at the club last night.” said the patient. “Last night was my sister's birthday, There’s no way I went to the club.”

“Young man,” said the doctor kindly. “When is your sister's birthday?”

“June twenty-seventh.”

“That was two weeks ago, young man. Today is July eleventh.” said the doctor softly. I could hear the guy jolt up in bed.

“Two weeks? I’ve been here for two weeks?” he yelled. There was a groan, and some shuffling.

“Lie back, don’t exert yourself.” soothed the nurse.

“Not weeks, son.” said Dr. Bradley after a moment. “You’ve been here for less than a day. I believe you’re suffering from retrograde amnesia, losing recent memories. The effect is usually temporary for concussions like this.”

“Usually?”

“Some people only regain parts of their memory, and some remember nothing at all. There are a few who remember fully, but that is quite rare. Don’t be alarmed, you won’t feel confused and unsettled forever.” gently explained the doctor.

There was a moment of silence. I assumed that the guy was settling down.

“Now, may I ask you a few questions?” asked the nurse. “It’s all right if it takes you a few moments to answer, just take your time.”

“Uh, sure.”

“What is your name?”

“Mmh. Uh, Sokka Kannak.”

“Date of birth?” “November twenty-fifth, nineteen ninety-seven?”

“Place of birth?” “Juneau, Alaska.”

“Relatives to call?”

“Erm, my sister, Katara Kannak. I should have a list of emergency contacts in my jacket pocket. I think. Depends what jacket I was wearing.”

“Alright. Thank you Mr. Kannak, I will be back shortly to do some cognitive tests.” said Dr. Unalaq. He and the nurse left the room. There was a moment of awkward silence, before the guy, Sokka, spoke.

“Are you also a nurse?” he asked Toph.

“Me?” said Toph, jumping at the sudden question. “Nah, I’m the best friend of your current roommate.”

“Roommate?” asked Sokka. Toph pushed the privacy screen open. I hadn’t gotten a good look either the night before or earlier when Yagoda was doing her rounds, but Sokka was a well built man, probably taller than me, with tanned and tattooed skin and brown hair shaved into an undercut and pulled into a ponytail, showing off the piercings in his ears. His eyebrows glinted too, showing a bar in his eyebrow.

He looked nothing like Mai, which meant he was my type.

“Sup. I’m Zuko.” I said.

“Sokka.”

“I heard.” There was another awkward silence.

“So,” said Sokka, very awkwardly. “How did I end up here?”

“Uh, you were clubbing last night, and some evangelical dude busted in and threw grenades on the floor.” I said. “You knocked your head hard and I got shrapnel in my back.”

“Ouch. Was it a terrorist attack?” “The nurses said something about domestic terrorism, but I think he was just out of his mind.” I said. I tried to settle into the sheets, but small movements adjusted the stitches too much. I winced.

“You’re leaving out the part where you concussed him because you body- slammed him to protect him.” Toph snorted. Sokka and I both jolted. I winced again.

“Right. That happened. He was passed out and would never have reacted in time. It wasn’t really a conscious decision on my end.” I said, trying to stay casual.

“You saved my life?” said Sokka, in wonder.

“Hey now, ‘saving your life’ is a stretch.” I said uncomfortably.

“Oy, that nurse told me that Sokka would’ve had gnarly burns and taken shrapnel to the face if you hadn’t been there.” said Toph crossly.

“That’s just conjecture, shrapnel to the face doesn’t mean death.” I said.

“There’s a lot more vital points and less bone and muscle to protect the organs. Probably death.”

“Conjecture.”

“Death.”

“Conjecture.”

“Death.”

“Con-”

“Back up, you took shrapnel to the back for me?” interrupted Sokka.

“I gue-”

“Yes” said Toph at the same time.

“Whatever.” I said, cross. I turned my head the other way, ignoring Toph's protests, and determined not to talk to anyone for a while.

The next week crawled by at a snail’s pace. Toph had to go back home, leaving me alone, and Sokka had a gnarly concussion and seemed to have trouble forming new memories.

Every once in a while, he’d look over at me with a dopey smile and ask, “Who are you?” By the seventh time I had to introduce myself, I was ready to tear out my stitches just so I could bleed out.

I was confined to the bed as well, which made everything suck more.

It was utter monotony. I couldn’t even turn around to see the TV. Thankfully they’d found my phone, but there was only so much time I could spend on Instagram before wanting to tear my hair out.

The day that I was finally, finally allowed to stand up, after a massage to get blood flowing in my legs, I spent the next couple of hours just walking around the halls, getting used to walking again.

By my fifthteenth circle I had practically memorized the names on the doors. One of the nurses eventually forced me back into the room somewhere around the thirty-seventh circle.

I sat on the edge of the bed. Sokka looked over at me, and I immediately recognized his dumb dopey grin. I groaned.

“Hi.” he said breathlessly. “You’re really pretty.”

I choked. That was new. Usually Sokka would ask if I was in the hospital because of the scar. People didn't usually think it was pretty.

“I’m Sokka.” he said.

“Zuko.” I said with an oddly strangled voice.

“Zuko. That’s such a pretty name. ” he said dreamily. I coughed again. Sokka looked around. “Where are we?”

“The hospital. We got caught in an explosion. You’ve got slight amnesia, but you’ll be fine, from what the doctors tell you.”

“Have I met you before? I’m feeling some deja vu.” said Sokka.

“We’ve been in the same hospital room for a week.”

“Why don’t I remember?”

“I just told you that you’ve got amnesia, dummy. Supposed to be temporary though.” I said.

Sokka stood up, and walked over to me. He reached his hands out to my face, cupping my cheeks. I froze. “Have I asked you out yet?” he said. His dumb, stupidly nice smile returned. I blushed hard, and pushed away his hands.

Sokka didn’t seem to mind the sudden force, but my back protested the movement.

“Calm down, Casanova. We barely know each other.”

“Can I get to know you more?” he asked. I flushed and shoved him back, then closed the privacy screen with a little more force than necessary.

“It was nice to meet you, Zuko!” called Sokka from the other side. I couldn’t wait for him to forget that meeting too, but because luck could never be on my side, his amnesia subsided after that. He still couldn’t remember the two weeks prior to the accident, nor much of the week after, but he remembered everything now.

Since he’d gotten his memory back, and didn’t seem to have too many other problems, he was discharged three days later, with the concussion protocols shoved in his hands.

He still somehow found time to visit for hours every day, bringing gifts every time.

Chocolate the first day, a cake the second, an entire flower bouquet the third.

I didn’t know how he knew, but they were sunflowers, my favorite.

“Why sunflowers?” I asked.

“They’re beautiful and sunny, just like you.” he said with a smile.

A smile that was becoming annoyingly cute as the days passed.

“I’m not sunny.” I scowled.

“Shows what you know.” he said, tapping my nose. “When I first saw you the light from the window made a corona around you. For a second I thought you were my guardian angel. You’re incredibly sunny. The sun reminds me of you. Ergo, sunflowers.”

I turned away from him, praying he’d think I was annoyed at him. Because I was. No other reason. My face was definitely not red and hot. When he left for the day, Yagoda clicked her tongue at me as she changed my bandages.

“I thought you guys weren’t dating.”

“We’re not.”

“Tell that to him, dearie. Poor boy practically has hearts coming out of his eyes when he looks at you.”

“He’s flirting with me, but we’re not dating.”

“At least kiss him before you get discharged. I’ll win the bet pool that way.”

“The what?”

“Nothing, nothing.” she said in a sing-song voice. I didn’t need to feel my face to feel the hot rush spreading to my ears. I couldn’t wait to get out of here. Luckily, the next day I’d get my stitches out, and I’d finally get to go home.

Sokka showed up that day in a full tuxedo.

“Where’d you get a tuxedo? No, first things first, why are you in a tuxedo?”

Sokka merely smiled, and got on one knee. I could hear the nurses squealing in the background, but my attention was fully focused on the dumbass in front of me.

“Sokka.” I hissed. “What are you doing.”

“Zuko Sozin,” Sokka said, ignoring me again. “Would you do me the great honor of letting me take you on a date?”

He brought out a flower from behind his back. A sunflower. The squealing increased, and I covered my face with my hands.

“If it’ll make you get up, fine. Yes. I’ll go on a date with you.” I said quietly, trying to urge him to get off his knee.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.” said Sokka, putting on an utterly fake air of innocence.

“Fine, you cheeky idiot. I’ll go on a date with you!” I yelled. The squealing turned into screams. I reached out and grabbed his tie.

“Yagoda!” I yelled. “I want half the pot!” and with that I yanked Sokka forward and kissed him.

Our noses bumped a little and our teeth clacked together before our mouths adjusted, and the kiss itself was almost bruising in nature.

In other words, it was perfect.

The screaming intensified, but the sound was almost muted compared to the sound of blood rushing through my ears. I pulled us apart, and Sokka's features were graced with his cute grin.

“That was nice,” he said, dazed.

“Pay up!” yelled Yagoda in the background.

“You cheated!” accused another nurse.

“I didn’t expect Zuko to actually do it! Besides, you heard the kid.” she turned towards me. “Half the pot, you said? Better put it towards your marriage fund.”

I blushed hard.

“Not sure if I should be giddy that you kissed me or mildly exasperated because it was to win a bet.” pouted Sokka.

“Tough.” I said.

* * *

**2019**

There was no way of getting around it. My back looked ugly. I refused to let Sokka touch it, or even see it. I spent so long hating it because of _her_ and now it was all scarred up. I didn't have the same reservations of my face, because the scar on my face was a part of me, and a part of my growth, and a reminder that I always had my honor, and my father had none. But my back signified nothing but heartbreak and pain. I was beginning to think that my back would always be ugly.

“I’m thinking about getting a tattoo.” I said one day, wrapped up in the sheets with Sokka. He opened his eyes blearily.

“You’d look amazing with a tattoo, Zuko. You’re always so pretty.” he mumbled, half asleep. He closed his eyes again.

"The one I have in mind will probably take time. I don’t want you to see it until after it’s done. Okay?”

“Whatever you say, Sunshine. I’d wait forever for you” he murmured.

“Cheesy bastard.” I said. He just grinned in his sleep.

This time around, I found a much more professional tattoo artist. Being with Sokka had calmed me down a lot, and as a result I had quite a bit more spending money, as I wasn’t going to the clubs all the time. Therefore, I could afford a nicer tattoo from a more professional artist.

The artist’s name was June, and she spent the first appointment just going over ideas and pricing with me.

“You want your whole back, right? Full color and everything?”

“Yes. I was in that club explosion last year. I have some pretty gnarly scars. I’d like a cover up.”

“Can I see what I’m working with?” she asked. I hesitated for a moment, before realizing she had to tattoo my back anyway. I turned around and pulled my shirt off. June let out a low whistle.

“Wow. This’ll be interesting to work with.” she said. “Can I touch them?”

“Sure.”

“Wow. These scars healed really nicely, they’ll be pretty easy to go over.” she said. Her gloved fingers were firm, but soft, poking without irritating my skin.

“I had to be an inpatient for these, the nurse took really good care of them.”

“Lucky you. Hmm, I’m seeing some ink on your right shoulder, did there used to be a tattoo there?” I froze a little.

“Not one that I’d like to have back.” I said.

“Good, because the lines already here and the lines I’d do to match up for the scars go in opposite directions. It’s good that I don’t have to match it up. I’m going to take a picture for reference, but then you can put your shirt back on.”

I stayed still as she snapped the picture, then I slid the t-shirt on and turned back around. Heaven was already sketching something.

“This is going to be pricey and time-consuming. I’d say you’d have to come in for about five or six sessions, four or five hours each. Is that doable?”

“On the weekends.”

“Deal. I’ll put you down for the one o’clock sessions on Saturday for the next five weeks, and after that we’ll see where we’re at.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Anything in particular you’d like before I design it? I’ll send you pictures before the first session and we can tweak things before we start the tattoo, but any ideas now would be perfect.”

I thought for a moment. What was I okay with tattooing on my body for the rest of my life?

“Hmm. I’m a Cancer, so maybe something with crabs? I also like sunflowers. Maybe fish and flowers? Or dragons.”

“Interesting. Surf and turf flora and fauna kinda deal, I’m intrigued. Not sure how the dragon will fit in but i'll figure something out. I’ll send you some ideas, so refresh your inbox every once in a while.”

“Thank you, June.”

“See ya next time, Zuko.”

I wasn’t going to lie, the first tattoo may have been bad, but this one was worse. Sure it was much bigger, and fully colored and shaded, and therefore much more painful to deal with, but not even June's incredibly light touch was making it easier.

“Zuko, you’ve got to relax.” she said, “Otherwise it’ll hurt more.”

“Easier said than done.” I grunted. The scars were extra sensitive, and I had to refrain from flinching everytime the needle got near one of them. “You’re doing well at staying still, I’m just worried about your muscles.”

“I’ll be fine, keep going.” I had forbidden Sokka from helping me out with the tattoo, so I got to look at it a lot while applying salves and ointments in the following weeks.

Heaven had outlined a crab across my shoulder blades, with sunflowers following the lines of scars and wrapping around the crustacean’s legs.

Underneath the crab, there was a coiled dragon, with different types of flowers placed intermittently on the scales. There were also little crabs placed on the dragon, so it meshed with the top piece really well.

I had to hand it to her, it looked really good.

The colors slowly formed on my back, and it looked too good for me to care too much about the pain of it all. It ended up taking seven sessions, but then June set down the needle, and wiped down my back. She sat back, smiling contentedly.

“This might be my best work.” she said, satisfied. “Do you mind if I take a picture? A before and after? This will make for incredible advertising." I shrugged.

“Sure, why not.”

June snapped a few shots of my back before wrapping it up. I thanked her, gave her a heavy tip, and went home, where Sokka was eagerly waiting for me.

“Is it done?” he asked. By way of response I took off my shirt and turned around. Sokka slowly unwrapped it. The plastic fluttered to the ground, and he gasped, reaching forward and tracing the lines.

“It’s beautiful,” he said. He leaned forward and kissed my shoulder, then my spine, then my neck, then my lower back. I shuddered. It had been a long time since someone had touched my back with such tenderness.

“You’re so beautiful Zuko. I love you.” he murmured into my neck. I leaned back onto his shoulder.

“I love you too, Sokka.” I said with a kiss on the cheek.

Sokka smiled and pulled me further into the house.

* * *

**2020**

“You never told me you saved my life.” murmurs Sokka as I finish. He’d listened to the story with rapt attention, never interrupting me, never taking his eyes off me. I gape at him.

“That’s what you want to focus on? The one bit that’s utter conjecture?” I ask incredulously.

He pouts. “We’ve been together for two years and I’m only now just learning about how we really met. I thought we met at the hospital. In fact, I didn’t even know what injuries you had. Am I a terrible boyfriend?”

“You’re a great boyfriend, stupid. We were introduced at the hospital, if it makes you feel better.” I say. Sokka chuckles a bit in response.

“Sure it does. But you know, you only told me about the circumstances surrounding the tattoo, not about the meaning of the tattoo itself.”

“Oy, didn’t you listen? Crab because I’m a Cancer sign, sunflowers are my favorite, but I like flowers in general, and dragons because dragons are cool. It’s not a head scratcher. I’m honestly surprised you didn’t put two and two together.”

“Zuko, the only cancer I know is the disease. I don’t even know what my star sign is. Forgive me for not knowing the importance of crabs.”

“You’re a Sagittarius sun and a Libra moon.” I tell him matter-of-factly.

“See, that right there was utter gibberish.”

“Why do I like you again?” I say, exasperated. Sokka pouts again.

“Anyway, the point isn’t that the tattoo’s subjects are important. The tattoo itself is me moving on. That’s the point.”

Sokka rolls onto his stomach, throwing his arm around me and tugging me into his chest. He murmurs into my ear. “I’m happy that you could move on, Zuko. I love you, Sunshine.”

“I love you too, dumbass.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yagoda is the name of the teacher who taught Katara how to heal. Arnook is the Chief of the Northern Water Tribe (Yue's dad), because I didn't have any better characters.
> 
> Tell me what you thought! Leave comments and kudos! Check the original and compare the two! I hope you enjoyed reading!


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